Page 10 of The Leader

As she trailed along the cobblestone streets of Vatican City, she mused about her next move. Now that she had fulfilled her promise to Mike by looking up the masters in the Louvre, the Rijksmuseum, and the Vatican Museums, it felt as if a chapter of her life was closed for good. So now what? In the past weeks, she’d had a lot of time to think about her future. She had made a commitment to Tommie and the company they were building. It was important to both of them, and she had felt really bad sending him an e-mail explaining that she needed some time because of a “personal matter.” She had come to a few conclusions over the past few days, and one of them was that she could no longer live under her grandfather’s umbrella. It was time to spread her wings. It wouldn’t be easy to convince him that she wanted to stand on her own two feet, but she’d done it before, during college.

When Jazzy passed a gelateria, she suddenly felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle. She spun around but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual group of tourists in a row, following an umbrella and a backpacker holding out a map. Still, she didn’t feel at ease and took up her pace. It was probably just the jitters and paranoia she lived with, expecting Detta’s men at every turn.

The first week in Paris, it had been worse. Especially when she’d spotted a welcoming committee at the airport, which she had narrowly managed to escape. After visiting the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay, she had quickly left Paris, taking a train to Lille. From there, she had left for her second destination, Amsterdam. As long as she didn’t use her credit card or phone, she was impossible to trace. That is, right up to the point when she would return to the States. But by then, the month would have passed, so Giovanni Detta would have no more reason to go after her. At least, that was what she’d told herself. When she’d texted hernonnoto tell him she had landed safely, right before she had taken out her old SIM card, he had replied with an ominous “Good luck.”

The chatter of a group of Asian tourists brought her back into the here and now. She couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was being followed. She hurried off into one of the many small alleys of Rome, hoping to get lost in them. When she didn’t hear any footsteps following her, she gave a sigh of relief.

You are being paranoid, Jaz. No one is following you. It’s been three weeks. Dettamusthave given up by now. Gina is probably choosing their wedding rings and redecorating his house by now.

An unexpected pang of regret went through her when she pictured him with another woman, which was crazy. She attributed it to the insta-lust he had awoken inside her. Which had been one of the reasons she had run away in the first place. Lusting after another woman’s soon-to-be-man was not her thing.

When she saw the famous Old Bridge Gelateria in the distance, she came to a halt. Looking forward to some cooling down, she went up to the place. Before she could take another step, she was yanked into an open door. A large hand clasped around her mouth and everything went black.

She woke up in a dark room, with a dry mouth. The bed she was put on cracked when she pulled herself up on her arms. Green drapes shut out the faint sun. It was still light outside; probably close to dawn, though. She hurried off the bed and looked around for her bag. To her surprise, it was placed on a dingy table next to a closet. She grabbed it while peering out the window. It looked out over an abandoned courtyard. Judging by the yellowish houses and rows with terracotta plants, she assumed she was still in Italy. Even in Rome, perhaps. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.

She slowly tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. Even more surprising was that both the corridor and stairway were abandoned. After taking the steps two at a time, she opened a door that led to an empty courtyard. When she turned the corner, she came face-to-face with a burly man in a black suit.

Not so empty after all.

When he tried to grab her, she didn’t hesitate. She did a backward spin kick and knocked his legs from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

She spun around and headed off into the other direction, when she crashed into another body. The big blond grabbed her a little tighter than was necessary, which also presented an opportunity. She gave him a sweet smile, internally laughing as his gaze dropped to her lips and his hold loosened for a fraction.

Then she kneed him in the balls.

He let go of her, while cursing and yelling. Jazzy didn’t think; she just ran. Less than ten feet away, there was an iron gate.

When a bullet hit the wall next to her, she froze. She slowly turned around, hands in the air. The blond buffoon, who stood slightly bent over, gave her a deadly stare.

“That’s not very sportive of you. I’m sure you really feel like a man now, holding that gun.”

In hindsight, mouthing off at a man after just having stomped all over his pride, might not have been the best thing to do. He came at her and slapped her so hard her head hit the wall. She saw stars, and then nothing but darkness.

The second time Jazzy woke up, she found herself zip-tied to a chair in the middle of a kitchen. A hulking figure leaned against the fridge opposite her, looking utterly bored. He had a certain military stance. His massive arms, tattooed with tribal art, looked like they could easily snap her in two. He had the greenest eyes she had ever seen.

Next to him stood Dickhead, the one who had smacked her in the face. Was she seeing things or was Dickhead sweating a little? He didn’t seem at ease standing beside the behemoth of a man that was practically twice his size.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” the military guy said, his eyes on her throbbing cheek.

“The bitch kicked me in the nuts. Mr. Detta will thank me for teaching her a lesson.”

Jazzy wanted to tell him to fuck off, but changed her mind. That would only lead to him slapping her again. Also, she was suddenly more transfixed by the subtle change that took place in the big guy’s expression. His eyes had turned rock-hard, though Dickhead seemed oblivious to it.

“You’ll see him soon enough. We’ll see how grateful he is then. Now get the fuck out.”

Shit. This was actually happening. She hadn’t even considered the scenario of Detta following through on his threat to come after her. Clearly, she had underestimated his ego.

When Dickhead left, the big guy turned his attention back to her. His combat boots echoed ominously on the tile floor as he headed over to her.

“I’m Hector. Gio’s head of security.”

Gio, not Mr. Detta. A friend of his, perhaps? Though, he looked more like a mercenary, and a dangerous one at that, with the scars on his cheek and bulging biceps.

“Nice to meet you, Hector.” She gave him a fake smile. “Obviously I forgot to put you on the no-fly list. Could you please give me your last name? You know, so the next time, I won’t forget to add yours as well.”

He almost cracked a smile. Somehow, she knew this wasn’t a man who laughed a lot, if at all.

He walked over to the sink and held a cloth under the running water. Then he walked back over to her. As he wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, she realized he was surprisingly gentle for a man of his posture.

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